Love and a Lakeside
by May Eve
Summary: Harry/Ron SLASH. "Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."
1. Love and a Lakeside

**Love and a Lakeside**

Crimson locks passed easily through his fingers and Harry sighed quietly in simple content. Voldemort was dead, his Death Eaters taken to the grave with him, and he had been happily in love for five years now. A smile stretched across his face as he leaned his head back to rest against smooth bark, worn down by time and schoolchildren heads.

The pale, freckled head in his lap shifted slightly to see as he entangled their free hands. A matching smile appeared on the familiar face and Harry leaned over to steal a chaste kiss, just for the sake of it.

This had always been their spot, even in school. The old willow at the lake's edge, where the Squid sometimes liked to warm his tentacles in the sun or call the merfolk to play. Ron suddenly let out a heavy sigh and Harry stared down at him, confused. The look on his lover's face was one he hadn't seen since the Final Battle, determination and fear and so much love it was overwhelming, drowning them. The redhead pulled himself up, standing before Harry and reaching down to lift him to his feet.

Harry obligingly stood, still confused and a little concerned, but having some inkling that this was why Ron had brought him back here for his birthday. Then his eyes widened and Harry later swore he stopped breathing as Ron got down on one knee.

"Harry, I've loved you since the moment I first set eyes on you, admired you, adored you, and followed you through all of life's challenges. I've made my mistakes but you always forgave me and I will never be so thankful for anything else in my life than that you gave us a chance." Here, Ron's voice, deepened with age and maturity, paused and he shut his eyes with the nerves. Harry wanted to reassure him, but couldn't find his breath, let alone his voice.

Those clear blue eyes opened and Ron continued, husky and heartfelt, "Harry Potter, I love you so much and I want to be with you for the rest of my life." An open velvet-lined box was in his hand as he gripped Harry's and the green-eyed young man wondered dizzily when that got there. Ron smiled up at him.

"Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

Harry stared a moment, shell-shocked, as he listened to the pulse in his ears. Then, it was like a spell breaking and the next thing he knew, he was collapsed on top of his fiancé, kissing him breathless and whispering, "Yes, yes, yes!" Ron's exultant laughter echoing over the grounds around them as the sun shone upon a love that would always triumph, always hope, always persevere.

.:.:.:.:.


	2. Getting Any, or Hank

**Getting Any**

He loved the man, truly he did, but sometimes Harry really could not stand to watch Ron eat. Then his husband had brought home a puppy.

It was adorable. It, thankfully, didn't resemble Sirius at all (because can you say 'awkward') being a well-tended brown and white spotted beagle with perhaps a bit of some magical relative's blood. At least, Harry swore it was so, ever since the time they went on a weekend trip and came home to find all of his underwear (and _only_ his, since Ron had wanted to bring the dog along) torn up, chewed on, and displayed all over the house.

However, overall, the beagle christened Hank was a well-behaved sort. He was house-trained, affectionate, and naturally kept quite clean. His only flaw became apparent to Harry on his very first evening at their home.

Ron had thoughtfully, and likely by a certain bushy-haired brunette's urging, bought all the pet supplies for their puppy as part of the gift. This included several weeks worth of dog food and a bowl. Deciding to take care of the feeding while Ron took a shower to be rid of the excitable Hank's slobber, Harry carefully filled the bowl up three quarters of the way and set it in plain view. Hank sniffed once, twice, his tail began to wag furiously, and he trotted over at speed.

What followed was perhaps one of the most grotesque culinary massacres since Ron's welcome home dinner after he, Hermione, and Harry had returned from Horcrux-hunting and nearly a year of rations. Harry later compared it to a slow-motion trainwreck – he couldn't look away and yet was powerless to prevent the awful event.

Needless to say, Harry hadn't been able to eat much of the dinner he'd spent two hours cooking. Nausea tended to have the effect of loss of appetite.

And after he had very thoroughly thanked his husband for the sweet gift, Harry rolled into a line of moonlight that splashed on their bed. Leaning up, he rested his head right beside his husband's and whispered, "Ron?" There was an acknowledging mumble and Harry continued, smiling.

"Love, you know I love you and I adore little Hank, but if you ever bring me a live present without prior approval again you won't be getting any for _years_." Ron's eyes were wide open and he nodded very quickly.

"Yes, dear." He later denied the terrified squeak, of course.

And when, on their next anniversary, Harry presented a very surprised Ronald Weasley with an eight-month old kitten named Diana, Ron knew better than to complain about the mauling of his fluffy slippers. After all, he knew what he was getting into when he married the son of a Marauder.

.:.:.:.:.


	3. Hermione

_A/N: I am beginning to think this is some sort of twisted exercise in reverse psychology. Why? I am not a Harry/Ron fan - at all. I've read maybe five fics for that pairing that I remotely enjoyed. And now this - this is like my squick to end all squicks and when that was Hermione's big revelation, I swear to every god I just sort of sat here and stared and wondered where the hell I went wrong. _

_You'll get it at the end. Consider yourselves warned._

**Hermione**

She was frowning at him again, Ron thought with some despair. His closest friend next to his husband often found cause to frown at him, though he rarely understood why until it was too late. Hermione had grown up to be much too much like his mother, Ron often thought, very, very quietly to himself.

Her thick brown curls were sparking, he observed with something like resignation to mix in the despair. As an Unspeakable, Hermione often manifested odd side effects of her research so this served less as a surprise and more as a familiar cue to imminent verbal disembowelment.

Desperate, Ron turned pleading eyes on his counterpart, Hermione's husband of four years – she having married only a year after he and Harry – but Theodore just smiled at him, his Dumbledore-esque twinkle of amusement ever-present. Their pair had been a surprise to everybody, except, surprisingly, Ron and Draco Malfoy. When the best men were questioned in the hours leading up to the wedding, both shrugged and explained shortly – "Nott is perhaps the only person I can respect as much as Granger" – an explanation which in itself brought up further questions since Draco's near hero worship of Hermione Granger was still a mysterious development seven years after they were first locked together in their shared office in the Unspeakables Headquarters – along with the shockingly dry observation, "Nobody but the Shadow Prince of Slytherin could keep up with 'Mione. They've been dating for four years and the bastard still has her attention."

The wedding was, naturally, magical. Hermione's smile had been blinding even as her latest experiment left her hair aggressively defying gravity and Theodore had been photographed for the first and probably last time smiling in public. Hermione hadn't even frowned at him once throughout the ceremony—

Which brought him back to his present predicament. Racking his brain for anything particularly brainless or insensitive he could have said or done in the twenty minutes of their lunch together, he came up blank.

Sighing, he gathered his Gryffindor bravery and questioned weakly, "Uh, 'Mione? Can you spare a bloke the suspense and let me know what I've done this time?" Her frown deepened and Ron resisted the urge to knock himself out – this looked worse than one of his usual foot-in-mouth moments and besides, Hermione would just wake him and yell louder. Hermione finally opened her mouth and sounded surprisingly calm.

"Have you given Harry any indication you don't want a family with him?" Ron blinked, once, twice. "Excuse me?" Oh, that look is more familiar, he thought. Hermione rolled her eyes and heaved a put-upon sigh.

"Children, Ron. Have you said or done anything to make Harry think you wouldn't be happy about raising a child with him? You two have practically adopted Teddy, already." Ron's confusion must have been obvious on his face because Hermione opened her mouth looking increasingly frustrated and her hair began frizzing into an afro with what appeared to be substantial heat lightning. Ron swallowed, but cut in.

"'Mione, I would love to have a family with Harry and I'm sure I've never done anything to make him think otherwise. Can you tell me what brought this up?" Can, not would, Ron reminded himself, because he knew sometimes Hermione came out with these odd questions after she saw or heard something at work that she literally _couldn't_ share thanks to the Unspeakables contract.

Hermione just looked a little relieved, though, and waved off the question.

"In that case, I'm guessing this is the Dursleys rearing their ugly heads then." Ron frowned automatically at the name, starting to get a little frustrated himself when he still didn't understand what was going on about or what it all had to do with his husband.

"'Mione, spit it out already." She glared, but caved when he refused to back down. It was a little known fact that the only person who could out-stubborn both Harry and Hermione was Ron, when he had proper motivation.

"Harry is pregnant." She leaned back, looking amused as Ron held very still and stared at her. When he hadn't blinked or taken a breath after a minute, she started looking a little less smug and a little more concerned. Snapping her fingers in his face, she spoke, "Ron. Ron!" He sucked in a gasping breath and choked, sputtering and coughing into the glass of water Hermione shoved at him. He waved her off at last, breathing slow and careful, and stared at her some more.

"…'Mione?" He finally asked, uncertain and wondering. She smiled for the first time since they'd met in front of the restaurant.

"You and Harry are having a baby, Ron."

.:.:.:.:.


End file.
